


just time away

by orphan_account



Category: The Creatures | Cow Chop RPF
Genre: Fake Chop, M/M, Prison, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-19 18:34:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16539923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: after three years james comes home





	just time away

Brett says he’s going to be there but Aleks doesn’t believe it until he catches sight of him from the corner of his eye.  The lights are low, blue and purple and pink, but he knows the shape of him. His nose and the hunch of his shoulders. He slides through the crowd of partygoers, stays against the wall, and ducks out the back, screen door creaking as it bounces closed in his wake. 

The music is so loud and vibrating Aleks isn’t even sure he’s shaking.  It could be anything, the feeling in his chest and his tight, but unsteady, grip on his beer.  It’s the bass under his feet, the conversations happening around him, loud over the shitty song that’s playing, it’s the wind picking up outside, rattling the windows.  His own heart, still piecing itself together, scattered across the last three years, breaking again as his feet move him forward without permission, right out the back door. 

The music’s still loud, but it drops away, muffled by the bad weather, and how his entire world narrows to the porch steps and the familiar shape leaned against the railing.  There’s nothing else, just like there’s never anything else, when he’s with James. 

“I was wondering if you’d follow me,” he says, and Aleks can’t  _ breathe _ . 

There’s a lot about James that has changed over the last three years. He can see it now, as he sits down next to him with a carefully measured space between them, just out of arm's reach. He’s thinner and older, a few wrinkles around his big, warm eyes, and his hair is long.  It’s pulled up in a neat bun and Aleks has no right to touch him, but he’s desperate to. Wanted to let it down and see what James looks like with all that hair. If it’s curly or wavy; wants to know what it feels like between his fingers. 

But his voice is the same.  

Aleks has heard him in a thousand different ways. Furious after a bad heist. Scared, keeping pressure against a wound that won’t stop bleeding.  Soft in the middle of the night with no distance between them, whispering into Aleks’ hair, against his neck, between kisses, things he could never say in the light. 

When James got locked up he said it was best if Aleks didn’t come to see him.  Said it was dangerous, wouldn’t fucking explain  _ why _ , never called, refused visitation, sent his letters back, unanswered, unopened, until Aleks stopped trying. And Aleks hated him, hated him for sixteen fucking months, until he didn’t anymore. Knees drawn up to his chest on the kitchen floor, Ein’s big eyes on him, whining, crying for the same thing he was, he’d finally understood. 

“You should have told me you were getting out,” Aleks said, throat dry and palms sweaty. “I would’ve worn jeans at least.” 

“I  _ like _ your sweats.” 

Aleks has heard James’ voice with every inflection, every emotion behind it, he knows every high and low, the cadence of James’ words that matches the beating of his heart.  He knows when James feels small, and sad, and terrified. Voice so shaky it barely makes it to Aleks.

“Was it better?” he asks after a few quiet minutes, telling himself he’s sniffling because it’s cold and that’s all. Telling himself James isn’t crying. “Was it easier to get through it without me?”

James takes a deep breath and doesn’t look at him, keeps his eyes on his own bare forearm, on tattoos Aleks doesn’t recognize. “I don’t know,” he admits. “I thought I was saving you from something. Thought I was saving myself.” 

“And?” 

“I just missed you, Aleks,” he says, his voice horse and wet and terrified. “I’m so fucking sorry.  I - “ he stops, takes a deep, uneven breath, “I know you - it’s been  _ three years _ . I’m just sorry.”

Dropping his beer, Aleks closes the distance between them as fast as he can, his heart racing as he takes James’ hand in both his own.  He still can’t tell if he’s shaking. But they probably both are. Over the three years Aleks had the rest of his coloring done, and James uses his other hand to trace the swirls of his tattoos as Aleks does the same to his new ink, and it’s evidence of the time that passed, the ways they’ve changed. 

“Absolutely fucking not,” Aleks whispers as he scoots a little closer. “I’m not fucking anything. I’m yours. You’re mine, dumbass. You dumb bitch.”

James curls in, not to himself but into Aleks, ducks his head and presses as close as he can until Aleks wraps his arms around him. It’s not the place this should be happening, but it’s what they have - nothing has ever been ideal for them, but they’ve always played the game with the hand they were dealt.  James is crying, and Aleks presses his own wet cheek to the top of his head, holds him as tightly as he can. 

When James pulls himself together he sits up, cups Aleks’ face in his hands and doesn’t kiss him. He doesn’t know if he’s allowed, if Aleks wants him to, wants him  _ still _ , even though he’s already told him he does and that they belong to each other.  Aleks knows he’s going to have a tell him a thousand times more, and James will have to kiss him, and kiss him, and make him a thousand promises of his own that he’ll never, ever box him out again.

It’ll be difficult, but they’ve been through worse.  It’ll take time, but they have that now. 

Instead James just rubs his thumbs under Aleks’ eyes, soft, sweet touches across his cheeks, and says, “You look beautiful. I missed your face.”


End file.
